


Ruthless

by Augustus



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-03
Updated: 2009-06-03
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: Shore leave is haunted by the ghosts of Jim's past.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Chronology: Set during and immediately after "Shore Leave".

Ruth looks just as Jim remembers her, which makes perfect sense, given that he is somehow making her exist here through the power of his own mind. She is tiny, doll-like, fragile looking in the warm light of the glade. _She isn't real_ , Jim reminds himself, even as he wants so damn much to believe the words untrue. 

At first, he compiles mental lists of the few differences he can find between this Ruth and the girl he once had known. She is a lot quieter than he remembers, and her skin is oddly cool to the touch when she takes his hand. Not-real, and yet tangibly _there_ , brushing Jim's hair back from his forehead and pressing soft kisses to his cheeks.

"I love you," she says, and Jim doesn't know if it's a memory or a chance for redemption.

"Ruth," he begins, but the words don't come. How do you apologise for things that happened half a lifetime ago, how do you make amends for something you regret yet could not change? "I'm glad to see you," he says instead, and her smile, when it comes, is so familiar that Jim forgets to breathe.

"I'm glad to see you too, Jim," she replies. "Always."

If this meeting is Jim's fabrication, then he doesn't understand why she won't say the words he wants to hear. Perhaps his memories are _too_ flawless, this Ruth too grounded in reality for the outcome to be changed. But why is she here if not to grant forgiveness for the thoughtless actions of the young and foolish man he used to be?

When they come – _truly_ come – the memories are like a physical assault. Ruth's face, tear-streaked and ashen. Jim's own dismissive words. The sound of sirens in the middle of the night. The news, _oh god_ , the _news_ , and a friend crying brokenly in Jim's shaking arms for the sister he no longer has.

Ruth watches him impassively as he remembers. "You're not real," he says out loud. "You've been dead for twenty years."

"Do I _look_ dead?"

He watches her warily, half expecting her beauty to decay before his eyes into an echo of that broken body and those twisted limbs. She remains unchanged, however, save for the slight hint of a smile at the corners of her lips.

"You look beautiful," he says finally.

Had it always been this easy to make her smile? If only he had known that at the time. Perhaps he could have... But no. There was no point in revisiting the same guilt that had troubled him for so many years. What was done was unchangeable. It was a truth he had been forced to accept a long time ago.

Suddenly, everything seemed like a hideous farce.

Jim's revulsion must have shown on his face, because Ruth's hand is on his cheek, her eyes wide and concerned when she speaks. "What's wrong, Jim? Isn't this what you want?"

Her words spark another memory. _((Don't you want me, Jim?))_ He'll never be able to forget the way her eyes darkened at his reply. The image of Ruth in front of him has only confirmed the truth of that.

This isn't a second chance; it's a nightmare.

"You look tired," she says, and he can barely stand to hear that voice now, so similar to the one that has haunted him for all these years. "Let me make it better."

"I'm fine," he replies grimly. "It's been a long time between shore leaves; that's all."

Ruth _(not-Ruth)_ shakes her head. "You're tense. Please. Let me—"

And then her cool hands are on his shoulders, squeezing and kneading, untangling the knots that have been bothering him all day. Jim tries to extract himself from her grasp, but she merely laughs and holds him a little tighter. 

"You can't escape from _me_ , Jim Kirk," she says. Her voice is light, but Jim can't fail to recognise the menace in her words. Ruth has haunted him for twenty years; he can't see that changing any time soon.

Her fingers drift lower, digging into the aching muscles of Jim's upper back. A flash of memory from earlier in the day breaks through the fog of guilt that had been restraining him, and suddenly his cheeks are hot with remembered embarrassment. If only it were Yeoman Barrows behind him right now, Jim wouldn't be so quick to push her away. If only... but no. It didn't happen like that.

The feeling of embarrassment fades as the fingers stop momentarily, then renew the action, pressing harder and deeper than they had before. Jim's eyes close, the tension fading from his face as the knot in his back is kneaded into submission and transformed into a creeping feeling of complete relaxation.

Even before he turns, Jim knows. The amusement planet has worked its magic once again.

"Is that better?" he is asked, and the voice is no longer Ruth's, but rather a deeper, more soothing tone.

"Much." Jim does turn now, smiling at Spock with all the relief and gratitude that words can't possibly convey.

It's not Spock of course, not really, but right now it doesn't matter. Instead, it seems strangely fitting that, even in a reality formed by his own mind, it is Spock who has saved him yet again.

Spock's face is blank, but his eyes smile as he meets Jim's gaze. And suddenly Jim is laughing, in loud, near-hysterical bursts that echo across the surface of the nearby lake. Spock _(not-Spock)_ watches him, bemused, but doesn't pull away when Jim throws an arm around his shoulder in a too-familiar embrace.

"I've never been more pleased to see you," he says, when the laughter finally dies.

"Never?" Spock asks, one eyebrow raised.

It's a valid point.

* * *

Jim returns to the ship with a light tan and an aura of relaxation that he feels must be visible to anyone who should look his way. He brushes away McCoy's suggestive comments about Ruth with a smile and a wave of one hand, then deftly turns the conversation to Yeoman Barrows. The memory of his friend's motionless body is still far too fresh in Jim's mind and, when they part for the evening, he pulls McCoy into a crushing embrace. McCoy's smile shows that he understands.

Spock has been throwing curious looks in Jim's direction since his return. Once they are left along in the corridor outside Jim's quarters, he finally speaks. "Did you enjoy your time with that woman?" If Jim hears a note of jealousy in the words, then it's surely an invention of his own mind.

"I wasn't with her for very long."

Spock's expression is a blatant demand for more information. Jim looks around to ensure they're alone before continuing.

"Ruth... Ruth was the first person I couldn't save," he explains. "She was the younger sister of one of my friends at the Academy."

"I had reached a different conclusion," Spock admits.

"She was nineteen when she died," Jim continues, certain that the memories will congeal again if he doesn't release them now. "She was upset... not watching her step... they found her the next morning."

"And you blame yourself." It was a statement, not a question.

"I should have called her back when she ran. It would have been so simple to pretend..."

"You are not responsible for an accident, Jim." Spock's voice is soft and reassuring. "There is no need for forgiveness when there is nothing to forgive."

Jim isn't sure he agrees, but there is a relief in knowing that Spock, at least, considers him blameless. Well, in _this_ situation, anyway.

"Did the Ruth on that planet provide you with whatever it was that you needed from her?"

"It was like living it all over again." It isn't the answer that Spock is looking for, but it's the only one there is.

"Perhaps I was wrong to encourage you to stay."

It's not often that Spock admits any possibility of personal error, so Jim takes a moment to soak it up before replying. "No, you were right. I needed the break – and eventually I got it. Not such a bad planet after all, as it turns out. The key is learning how to direct your thoughts."

If Vulcans had the human penchant for eye rolling, Jim is quite certain that Spock would be doing so right now. "Would I be correct in assuming that you did not spend the remainder of your shore leave alone?"

Jim grins and claps Spock on the shoulder. "You know me too well," is his only response.

Spock's face is unreadable. "I am glad that your experience was not entirely negative. For the sake of maximum future efficiency, that is," he quickly adds.

Jim knows what Spock really means.

Before he can speak again, they are joined by Sulu, who hasn't stopped beaming since his return from the planet. "I'll sleep well tonight!" he announces with a conspiratorial smile. 

"I think we all will," Jim replies, gratified by the resounding success of his decision to allow the shore leave to go ahead as planned.

Sulu turns to leave, but not before subjecting Spock to one of his cheekiest grins. "You know, I didn't know Vulcans could swim!"

Spock, to his credit, doesn't so much as blink before replying. "Perhaps you might find it beneficial to expand the scope of your recreational reading a little."

Jim finds himself compelled to watch Sulu's progress until he turns the corner and disappears from view, the sight far preferable to the accusative look that he is sure to find in Spock's eyes. When he can postpone the inevitable no longer, however, he is surprised to recognise nothing but curiosity in Spock's demeanour.

"Fascinating," he says, raising an eyebrow as he meets Jim's eyes. "I would not have expected my people to feature greatly in any of the scenarios likely to be encountered on that planet."

Jim shifts uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders backwards and scuffing one foot against the floor. "About that..." he begins, but Spock doesn't allow him to finish.

"Is your back still troubling you?" he asks, seemingly forgetting about Sulu's words as he eyes Jim's stance. "Perhaps you should consult Doctor McCoy."

Jim's back is fine now, of course, but he's not about to admit that and risk allowing his friend's mind to return to Sulu's revelation. "Nothing a back rub wouldn't fix," he replies lightly, and it's not a lie _really_ , but rather allowing Spock to reach an incorrect conclusion from his words.

"Perhaps Yeoman Barrows would oblige you."

Vulcans may not be known for swimming, but this one, at least, certainly has the market cornered when it comes to irritating smirks.

"I wasn't thinking of Barrows, Spock, but never mind."

Jim knows he'll say something eventually, but that's no reason to rush the moment. If Spock _(not-Spock)_ was seen on the planet, it's only a matter of time before the comments grow more specific. Jim needs to explain before that happens, if only so he can hide any real significance beneath a shielding tangle of irrelevant facts. After all, he's not entirely sure what it means himself. All he knows is that shore leave couldn't have been nearly as rejuvenating without his friend at his side and, with Spock so insistent upon remaining on the Enterprise, it's not so surprising that his brain had found an alternative way to achieve that goal.

That's what Jim's telling himself, anyway.

If Spock is aware of any conflict in Jim's emotions, he doesn't show it. Instead he just raises that same, infuriating brow again and replies in a tone that Jim _swears_ is not so much unemotional as intentionally obscure. "If you wish me to assist you in this matter, you need only ask, Jim."

He's speechless for a moment, but not for so long that he might risk Spock changing his mind - not that the stubborn brute tends to do that without something bordering on fatal force. "I'll keep that in mind."

But Spock hasn't finished with him yet, and there's a glint in his eyes that Jim _knows_ means he's up to no good. "The same thing could be said for my company, if you should desire it."

There is a slight twitch at the corner of Spock's mouth and he _knows_ , somehow the bastard _knows_ , and he's been playing with Jim all along. He's like some kind of freakish omniscient force, hidden away behind that stoic face and guarded stance. Jim doesn't know whether to hit him or embrace him, so instead he stands there mutely, shaking his head and wondering how anyone ever believes Spock's nonsense about being above emotions when there's such a feeling of _glee_ emanating from him right now that Jim couldn't not see it if he tried.

"There's a very good explanation," Jim begins, and he's ready with a thousand if he needs to spin them out.

For once, however, Spock doesn't seem at all curious. Instead he encircles Jim's arm with his hand – one of those rare, Spock-initiated touches that never fail to comfort and ground Jim even in the most turbulent of moods or times – and fixes him with a sober gaze.

"If you need me, I will always be there."

And with that, Jim can't possibly be angry with Spock for teasing him and stringing him along, because that – _that_ – is why Jim has just spent the last however many hours down on that planet with his clone. He has no idea _what_ it is exactly, but the important thing is merely that it _is_ , and that it has been and always will be there. 

* * *

That night, Jim dreams of Ruth one final time. She turns to him, but when she speaks, her words are not her own. 

"There is no need for forgiveness when there is nothing to forgive," she says, her lips cool and unyielding as they press against his cheek.

"I couldn't save you," Jim protests, clutching for her, even as she begins to disappear.

"No one could." 

She smiles once, briefly, and then she's gone.

* * *

When he wakes, Jim's skin is cold and clammy and his sheets are soaked with sweat, but Ruth's spectre seems a little fainter and a fraction more distant. He wasn't able to save her, and perhaps he will never be able to forgive his youthful sins of omission, but fifteen years have passed and it's time to put that guilt to rest.

Implicitly, Jim knows what Spock would say on the matter: "You cannot always save _everyone_ , Jim."

Alone in his quarters, Jim laughs aloud, the irony of the statement pleasing him.

After all, Spock always, _always_ manages to save _him_.


End file.
